


Impatient, the Spirit Twists

by Jyou_no_Sonoko



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Gen, I've been thinking about this for the longest time, Implied hair pulling, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mild Hurt/Comfort, and it never makes me any less angry, how nice of canon to offer visual depiction mmyeah love that, marith, trauma processing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29217849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyou_no_Sonoko/pseuds/Jyou_no_Sonoko
Summary: A fraught history surrounds Lilith's cherished tresses, having often been used in the service of her abuse. But once she is offered a gentle braiding by Mary, she resolves to cure herself of the aversion, by force of will alone.While it is not vital to readChapter 59of "Answers for Mary" prior to this, it will provide a certain emotional through-line.
Relationships: Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith & Original Mary Wardwell, Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith/Original Mary Wardwell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Impatient, the Spirit Twists

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CCNSurvivor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCNSurvivor/gifts), [liliths_crxwn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliths_crxwn/gifts).



“Mary?”

“Yes?”

“Would you perhaps like to... braid my hair?”

She moved her grading to the nightstand, and turned her full attention to the figure sitting on the other side of the bed, facing purposefully away.

“Are you sure?”

Mary knew full well the weight of such a request, given the vile memories which ever lived in Lilith's head: unrelenting recall of times when her cherished mane had been wrenched and arrested, becoming yet another tool of her millennia of abuse. But Mary also knew that she herself had made the offer, many moons ago, should Lilith ever wish to abandon herself to a gentler set of hands. And knew how dearly Lilith had wanted to achieve such solace.

“I believe so.”

“Then...” she reached for Lilith's shoulder, in order to have the conversation face-to-face, and decide whether the attempt was truly wise to make, "I'd love to. But when?”

“This evening.” The neutrality on Lilith's face was practised, and Mary did not attempt to penetrate it.

“All right. I'll get back as early as I can.”

“There's no need to hurry home, I have plenty to see to before then.”

“Like what?” She had not intended to probe, but realised too late that Lilith was merely brushing off her concerns.

A pause followed, during which Lilith dolefully lowered her gaze. “The slowness is worsening... and I had hoped some time in the forest would help stimulate my body into alertness. If only a semblance thereof. Though it seems my agility is doomed to deteriorate into the foreseeable future.”

“Oh... of course.”

The air hung heavy, suddenly saturated with the unspoken things which afflicted Lilith's body, and would continue to do so for many months yet.

Mary moved closer, and rested her jaw on the slope of Lilith's shoulder. “Then I hope you'll have a refreshing hike. Do you think you'll swim?”

“I might. Even if that naiad of yours is likely to taunt me.”

“She doesn't mean any harm.”

“It's their way. I know. But I'll not be held accountable if my mood arches too sharply one day and you come home to grilled fillets.”

“I'll hope that doesn't come to pass. Though if her instincts can't pick up on the sort of things a mere mortal like myself can,” she shrugged with her whole reclined chest, “I suppose it can't be helped.”

“You're far from the average mortal in perception.”

“So I'm told.” She wrapped an arm to hug Lilith well above her belly, then pulled back. Gathering her papers once more, she slipped off the bed, directing stockinged feet to where her spool heels sat, just on the cusp of the bedroom carpet. “I'd best be going. The brighter it gets, the more trouble those clouds are going to cause me.”

“Must you really drive, then?” Lilith drew one knee up onto the bed, turning with what someone with Mary's experience would recognise as mischief on her carefully curated face. “You'll have time for another cup of tea if you allow me to streamline the journey. And your eyes won't have to endure a moment's glare.”

“Tempting,” Mary tugged up the heel of her second shoe, balancing with her shoulder against the doorframe. “But I don't know how many times I can say my car broke down before they start sending mechanics directly to the cottage.” She straightened up, tightened her underarm's grip on the papers, and moved to the living room. “Thank you, though,” she called back.

“Of course,” the First Witch sighed, and Mary's lauded perceptiveness did not miss the affection in that noise, bringing matching affection to her own face.

“I'll see you soon. Enjoy your ramble.”

“Enjoy your hoards.”

Mary laughed. “Calling them that doesn't make it any easier!”

And with that, a fully-stuffed satchel slung over her neck, she stepped out, squinting her way across the gravelled stretch between doorstep and Volvo.

*

Despite her words and genuine intention, Lilith did not leave the house. Caught on the dread of failing composure — even under what would be the most non-threatening of circumstances — she filled the hours until Mary's return with minutiae: neatening and airing out their closets; grading the pages which had escaped Mary's notice, when fatigue had last flattened her; mending a chipped tea cup which had long stood in wait; and finally, when the timing seemed appropriate, beginning to prepare herself for the ordeal.

One which should be no ordeal at all.

A hot shower chased the anxious perspiration from her pores, and a slow shampooing, masking and conditioning of her hair provided much needed, empty-headed meditation. And once her ablutions were complete, the ritual extended itself into cosmetics, where with each skilful stroke she was sturdier, contouring powder emboldening both features and spirit.

Standing before the bedroom wardrobe, an uncomfortable tension stretched green and purple fabric across her abdomen, but she had intensely craved that dress, which called to mind lusher times, and so cast the glamour upon herself before the mirror could catch sight of her marred silhouette.

Just a bit of pretence was permissible. It was owed to her.

Pouring herself a second sherry, she wandered outside to the rear of the cottage, marginally soothed by the subdued forest sounds and the stillness of the air; the balm of a waning summer's afternoon. Then, as the vehicular hum approached, she re-entered via the kitchen door, just in time to greet Mary in the living room.

“Oh, did you decide you're going out instead?” Mary asked, eyes lit up at the fruit of Lilith's labours.

“Not at all. But sometimes one must dress one's part, lest one should eventually forget what it is.”

“Then,” Mary laid down her belongings with dubious brows, “what's your part?”

“For right now? Let's call me your mannequin.” She swept her hair dramatically from side to side.

“That's not much of an answer,” Mary scolded lightly, though stepped in regardless to appreciate her work. Then she raised her jaw, scenting the air: “Did you burn incense?”

“Just a little sandalwood.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

_Where's the harm in taking another swipe at serenity?_

Mary cocked her head, more curious by the moment, but willing to let Lilith's idiosyncrasies go. “I suppose not. So long as you're not trying to cover up some kind of domestic disaster.”

“Not at this time, I'm pleased to say.”

Mary nodded, satisfied for the present, and went through to the kitchen, to tap herself a glass of water and lean against the sink. “How was your swim?”

“The nymph will live to see another tide.”

While such evasiveness threatened to prompt more direct questioning, Lilith was relieved to see Mary's intuition flash within the blue, and have her abandon the issue. “Just let me wash up and get my head in order, then... if you're still keen for it?”

“I couldn't be keener.”

“Then I hope I'll live up to your expectations!”

After some brief morsels of food and conversation, they moved to the bedroom, Lilith seating herself at the rosewood vanity and Mary poised behind her.

“Shall I do a French braid? Is that all right, do you think?”

“That seems sensible. I wouldn't want you to be twisting and looping strands all through the night.”

“Yes, but... is it all right? For you?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“At the crown?”

“Mary,” she turned, hands rested primly in her lap, “It's fine. Don't worry.“

Mary exhaled, though clearly still uncertain, and began to carefully section Lilith's abundant mane.

Knowing some distraction was vital for her peace of mind, Lilith struck up conversation. “You said you were dragged into a meeting?”

“Oh. Yes, there was a grading upset, on the district level. To do with some examination papers that were marked with a faulty memorandum.”

“My my.”

“So the discussion was whether to award every student full points for the relevant questions — at the risk of benefitting those who didn't even attempt it — or to go back in and double-check each one by hand.”

“What was decided?”

Mary sighed and waited for Lilith to meet her gaze in the mirror, before indicating towards the living room with her chin. “That we have the remainder of the week.”

“Typical.”

“It's fine.”

“Only because you have me at your disposal.”

She gave a grateful little smile. “I do, don't I?”

Then Mary began work the strands of hair together and Lilith slowly closed her eyes, concealing with feigned languor the sudden, sour reaction from her gut. She controlled her breathing, kept it light, did not allow her chest to bob, and pulled her shoulders down and back.

“And the senior testimonials?“ she asked, forcing the focal point; if she were to recoil this soon in the process, then completion would be hopeless, and that simply would not do.

“Thankfully,” Mary breathed, looping a third section together atop Lilith's crown, “it doesn't seem like there will be too many. Maybe they've lost faith in me,” she shrugged, which continued into an airy laugh. “Which I can live with, to be honest.”

“A little less faith and a little more free time.”

Mary nodded. “A few years from now, there won't be any students left who remember my infamous 'breakdown'. It'll fade into folklore.”

“An excellent place for such things...” Her reply sounded lazy to her own ears, but there was nothing for it, as her attention had been urgently redirected to deal with her fast stiffening limbs. The tug at her scalp was minimal — Mary being tenderly conscientious — but it nonetheless prodded at centuries of sense memory.

_It's her. Nobody else gets near me. Not anymore._

“Are you all right?” Mary's hands had paused, and it was no surprise to Lilith that she had been caught out.

“Certainly.”

Mary's voice was sceptical: “Are you _really_ sure?”

“Please continue, Mary. I want you to. Sincerely.”

And it was true: in the moment, more than anything, she wanted to give this to the both of them; this tactile gift, where Mary took an active part in the creation of some part of her, wrought beautiful by skill and limitless care.

“Well,” she began again, hands and voice growing even more cautious, “anyway, it seems as though my vacation isn't going to be filled to the brim with admin this year, so, if you'd like to...”

“Yes?” Her foot was bouncing, where it crossed at the ankle.

“We could go away somewhere?”

Momentarily, the thought rescued Lilith from her body.

_Away somewhere, without a specific purpose._

_Unbound, allowed simply to exist._

“Where would we go?” There was a husk in her voice, from its journey through throat and thoughts.

“Oh, I don't know, abroad somewhere? I thought I'd leave that part to you, you're far better informed. You've actually been places.”

“Ah, of course, it would be your first time, wouldn't it?” The knowledge glimmered, made it even more special.

“Aside from the Trials.”

“Yes, those aside. You weren't exactly free to range.”

“Not to discount the experience! Even with the stress, I gained some very vivid memories.”

Indeed, vividity of memory was a mounting concern, as it moved up Lilith's legs and sat aching in the joints of her fingers.

“Then I will consider the options. Would you prefer somewhere... tropical?”

“I have no idea! The most tropical place I've been is California.” She gave a pale, self-deprecating laugh, and with the slight dipping of her shoulders came an unassuming tug.

A tiny, innocuous thing.

But it tore across Lilith's skull, and moist alarm sprang to her eyes.

She lowered her face, adopting a warm smile, an affected chuckle. “We'll have to do some... surveying. I think. Ahead of time.”

Her heart rate had sped up, though Mary showed no sign that she had noted the distress. With luck, Lilith could calm it down before too much longer.

“It's so incredible to me,” Mary marvelled, “to just... go somewhere! And then perhaps change your mind, and go back home. No dreadful airplanes. No lugging around one's possessions.”

“Yes, left to my own devices, such things are very easy to take for granted.” She could hear her own breathlessness, and slowed her speech to accommodate. “Seen through your eyes, however, there are many things I am experiencing afresh.”

“That sounds wonderful. I'm glad.”

Lilith chuckled again, and found it tainted with risen bile, narrowly avoided coughing.

_You're being ridiculous. Stop it. Just let us have this._

The braiding had made its way down her skull to the base of her neck, and an inevitable tipping back beckoned; she would have to decide immediately whether to resist and intensify the pull, or give in and slacken.

Either way, her face was lifting, and all of a sudden she was clenching her eyes, as ghosted fingers claimed her cheeks... dug into her jaw... slipped into her mouth...

“Lilith, you're shaking!”

“It's nothing. I'm fine.” Not only that, but she was also panting. Past intrusions that weren't really there.

Mary's hands had released her tresses and moved to fortify her shoulders. “Lilith,” she said firmly, “we need to stop.”

“Nonsense.” She bit her lip and, without a reason to be upright, took a moment to rest her forehead against clasped hands. “It's just a braid. I can have _one simple braid_.”

“Yes, you can, but...” Mary moved closer and ran her hands down Lilith's extended arms, resting them upon their twins, “it doesn't have to be today.”

“I'm over five thousand years old,” she snarled in beration.

“Which is a really long time to go through certain things.”

“But it's _you_ , Mary.” Lilith straightened up abruptly, gathering Mary's hands as she turned at the waist. “I _know_ it's you. And I shouldn't be reacting this way.”

Mary paused, scowling in sympathy as she considered her reply. “Your mind knows that. But bodies can be a lot more stubborn.”

“It's pathetic.”

“We've got time. Lilith, we've got _so_ much time.”

That earnestness, ringing out without censure, was impossible to combat.

_We do have time._

“I'm sorry,” she sighed, still obligated to her shame.

“Don't be sorry. I'm, well, I'm grateful you wanted to try. Honoured, even. Because you trust me that much.” Her smile turned sheepish at the admission, and she dipped her face. “So.... anyway...”

“You're right.” The phantoms had fled, no longer accosting her skin.

“That there's time?”

“Yes. But also, you're quite correct in saying that,” she shook her mane, cascading it loose, “I trust you. That much and more.”


End file.
